


Under the Sea

by Shadow_crawler



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Mermaids, Minor Violence, just some bruises, nothing super raunchy, this is so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 10:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15861666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_crawler/pseuds/Shadow_crawler
Summary: A self-indulgent Mermaid AU





	Under the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> My friend and I were talking about how both Joe Flanigan and Jason Momoa surf and how we never got an Atlantis beach episode and also had recently watched Dawson's Creek where Flanigan is a fisherman for two episodes so naturally things went fishy from there.

The engine was straining with the effort, they must have hooked a reef again. John was leaning over the side, trying to see if the rope was still coming up when he caught a glimpse of the net through the murk. As it came up closer, he knew there was something wrong.

The machinery screamed as the net started to breach the surface and gravity grabbed it harder. The other fishermen rushed over, all doing their part to pull on the robes and get the net onto the boat. They were as shocked as John but they managed to get it over the railing and when the thing caught in the net lashed out, they jumped back, spilling fish across the boat deck.

Its fins were tangled in ropes and it struggled for a moment to get its other arm free between hissing at them. It was still struggling against the knots around its tail but none of them dared get close enough to cut or untangle them.

“I’ve never seen this species before.”

“Dude, that’s a fucking mermaid.”

“We get this thing into a research facility, we’re rich. We could name this species after ourselves.”

“Quick, someone look up the number of that aquarium, they’d know what to do.”

It was heavy on the deck, it’s teal-green scales shimmering in the sun as they quickly dried out and it hisses were turning into asthmatic-sounding wheezes. It met John’s gaze as he looked down at it and it still looked pissed.

“Guys, I think its dying. We need to get it back in the water.”

“Hey, better it dead and us rich than to throw it back.”

“He’s suffocating!”

“And it’ll be a contribution to science!”

“I got a number.”

The captain’s attention was pulled away as numbers were rattled off and tapped in. John looked down at the fish man. It was like being back in the military again, knowing what you had to do even when told not to.

Too bad he’d never taken orders well.

John dropped to his knees, pulling out his pocket knife and working quickly before the others noticed. He started at the tip of the tail first, cutting the ropes, hoping the sea creature would understand or at least realize John isn’t going to hurt him by the time John made his way up the torso.

He seemed to. At least, he stopped thrashing so hard. Either he was dead, too weak, or didn’t want to be cut. John worked methodically, each rope giving under his hands softly and he moved them apart like unbuttoning a shirt. The last one was around his hips, well within clawed hand reach. He was gasping shallowly now, watching John with half lidded eyes. He could easily lash out and rip John’s throat open and John could only trust he didn’t.

When the last tangle was cut, John looped a hand under his shoulders, the other in the middle of his tail fin and lifted. The scales were rough on John’s arm and this guy was way heavier than he looked, all that insulation against the cold of the water probably. John couldn’t carry him long and all but flung him onto the railing of the boat. The creature’s fingers were fisted in the back of John’s shirt and he grabbed the railing tight with his other hand, trying to balance without taking John with him or falling back into the boat.

“Hey!”

“Sheppard, don’t you dare!”

John looked back at them once and shoved. He didn’t look down but heard the splash, didn’t know if the creature was unconscious, dead, or long gone, he just glared at the others of his boat.

“Oh, that was not a smart move.”

^^^^^^^^^^

John’s house had stilts under it to keep it safe from high tide, that’s how close he was to the ocean. The ground sloped sharply so the front door was green grass and the backdoor was a very steep drop off to the beach. On his meager salary, bouncing between jobs, plus his military pension, many were shocked he could afford a place with a view like this but being a major safety hazard tended to drive prices lower.

John stood on the beach, arm in a sling and trying not to move his face too much, the bruises still sending flares of pain if he twitched an eyebrow. His ribs hurt from standing so long but the sand felt nice between his toes and he preferred to watch the sunsets outside rather than through a window.

The red on the ocean was interrupted by something popping out of the water and John’s first thought was that it was a rock. Until he realized rocks don’t move and he knew this strip of ocean well enough to know that was a particularly deep part, so unless rocks could float, a rather large fish was moving through.

Or it was a peeping tom but he didn’t think his neighbors had sunk quite that low yet.

As he stared at it and and the sun behind it disappeared, he could make out more features. Lighter around the head, a slight bob as it swam, a face.

A face.

“John! Torren and I are here, I’m going to start dinner!”

“Ok, Teyla!”

When he turned back, it was gone.

^^^^^^^^^^

His arm had been out of a sling for all of two days and he finally didn’t look like a rotting apple so, naturally, Ronon immediately insisted they go surfing. He was finishing the latest wave and John was straddling his board, watching the next build. Teyla and Torren were on the beach making sandcastles and Rodney was sunbathing, none of them kept real close eyes on the other.

The wave was looking like a good one so John moved into position, climbing up as it came and caught it perfectly. The feeling of nothing but water below him, around him, threatening to crush him was indescribable. It was akin to flying, surrounded by blue and knowing one wrong move would send you falling but you did it anyway and came out alright every time.

He slipped and crashed into the water. The tie around his ankle pulled him up as his board floated back to the surface but John didn’t immediately swim after it. Sometimes the tranquility of being under the ocean was nice and he’d long since trained his eyes to accept the string of saltwater.

What he didn’t expect was to look into someone else’s face when he opened his eyes.

The guy looked just as shocked, eyes wide, and John blamed being upside down for why it took him so long to recognize the fish guy he’d saved over a month and a half ago. Underwater, actually in his element, he was stunning.

His white hair haloed around his head, caught in the tiny drifts and pulls and currents and it looked alive, like a mix of Medusa’s hair and albino seaweed. His eyes were slitted like a cat’s, an alligator was probably more accurate, and filmy with a second eyelid covering them. He had slits under his eyes and a raised ridge connecting them to his nose. Ear fins sprouted from under his hair and they looked like a bat’s wings on his face, thin spikes connected by membrane.

There were gills on his neck, surrounded by membrane-like frills a deeper tint of the rest of his skin; a teal that could be blue but could be green and shimmered either way. He wasn’t wearing clothes, obviously, why would a fish need clothes, John, so his chest was bare and hairless, the opposite of John’s own, and he didn’t have nipples, why would a fish need nipples, John, they don’t breastfeed. He had another set of gills just below his ribs, without frills, and his ribs were oddly pronounced, though John didn’t think this guy was underweight by any standards.

He had webbing between his fingers and John was already well accustomed to how long and sharp those claws looked up close. He had a bony, protruding spine on his elbow and a slight ridge running down from his elbow to the top of his hand where it sunk under his skin. There were ridges down his back, from the base of his skull to where the scales of his tail fin started, that did the same as the ones on his arms, sinking beneath the skin. His tail was all scales that transitioned from his skin seamlessly. He had a few fins on the back almost like a dorsal fin and a few on the bottom like pelvic fins. The caudal fin at the end was forked with secondary, much smaller fins on either side. It had streaks of white in it, which only added to the illusion of it sparkling.

John’s lungs were starting to burn so he pulled on the rope attached to his surfboard to help him to the surface. He gasped in the air and did a quick check. Ronon was riding another wave, Teyla and Torren were still playing, Rodney still looked like a stuck up, no one had noticed him yet.

He dived down, half expecting the guy to have left but he was still hovering there, using his arms to keep himself in place, and watched John. With his head tilted up, John could tell his eyes were a golden yellow. John came down and he came up a little and they were face to face again and now is when John realized he had no idea how to communicate to someone underwater, let alone someone who may not understand the conventional gestures of hello, goodbye, there’s a giantass fucking shark behind you.

So John waved slowly, ever the smoothest man around, and he actually waved back, which John didn’t expect. When he reached forward, John didn’t flinch back for some reason he’ll try to conceive an explanation for later when thinking back. His skin was velvety, John remembered it being more flakey last time but that was probably because he was drying out. It felt like an eel or those stingrays you can pet at the aquarium.

John breached for air quickly then dove back down. He reached out this time, slowly, gently, not too eager to find out what those needle sharp teeth feel like embedded in his arm. The other’s gills flared with each breath and John wasn’t sure if it was a fear thing or if he always looked like that. His chest expanded and contracted and it seemed like he was actually breathing if not for the six slits in his neck.

He took John’s hand like you would pulling someone up from the ground or getting ready to thumb wrestle. John’s mind felt itchy, which was weird, like when he was stuck on a thought he couldn’t get out or dwelling on an event he had no control over. And when a soft voice purred, like it was whispering into his ear, a quiet greeting, John may have screamed a little bit and had to go back up for air.

When he got back down, he wasn’t slow and careful in taking the guy’s hand again. He was grinning, looking amused, and John could hear that same voice rasping in his ear again. “Are you ok?”

“Yea. Yea, fine, why?” John thought back.

“I have not heard someone make that noise before.”

“Just surprised me is all.”

He tilted his head, eyes flicking over John’s face. He ran a thumb over a particularly stubborn cut on John’s forehead, his claws scratching John’s scalp and he had to resist the urge to lean into the touch. “Is this from our last meeting?”

John didn’t answer but he must have made a face because he asked again, “Did you get hurt because of me?”

“It was coming anyway, those guys never liked me much.

“I’m sorry, it was my fault for getting caught.”

“W-I’m sorry, I’m still getting used to the whole ‘you can talk in my brain thing’, and now you’re being very polite?”

“Am I not supposed to? Do you land walkers not show concern when you’re at fault for someone else coming to harm?”

“Well, yea, but you’re talking in my brain.”

“A few of us can, yes.”

“There’s more of you?”

“Of course. Did you think I was the only of my kind?”

“I thought this was an underwater fish god thing like Shape of Water.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Never mind.”


End file.
